


~Poetic Phone Sex~

by Kairat11



Category: Cockles - Fandom, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal sex with a (surprise), Dom Misha, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Jensen enjoys the teasing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Misha loves to tease Jensen, POV Jensen Ackles, Phone Sex, Semi-public masturbation, Sexting, Sub Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairat11/pseuds/Kairat11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is waiting to board a flight that will take him home from the latest SPN Con when Misha calls him with impure intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	~Poetic Phone Sex~

**Author's Note:**

> Heya guys,  
> This one shot was inspired by Misha's Watermelon Poem a few weeks ago. During his Tumblr Q&A, a fan asked him to write a poem and he didn't disappoint. Thanks Kay-Marie19 (on tumblr) for pushing me to write this.
> 
> Happy reading, enjoy!

Jensen was exhausted from traveling almost non-stop all over the world from con to con. He felt he was going to fall over, face first, at any given moment and sleep until the end of times. His co-workers and he only had a few hours of sleep at the hotel before they headed to the airport at around 8 am. It didn't delight him to have early flights, but at least he wasn't traveling at night. Like Dean, he wasn't a big fan of planes, though his was more of a normal dislike and not a phobia.  As his eyes wandered around the half-full gate waiting area and settled on familiar faces, he realized he wasn't the only one yearning for a familiar bed and for Morpheus to cradle his drained body.

Osric was spread flat on three seats, which didn't look very comfortable, but the kid was snoozing away like it was nobody's business. Guess when you're tired you make do with whatever accommodations you've got. Ruth eyes were barely open as she scrolled through her cell; a series of fairly impressive yawns had made it out of her mouth in the last ten minutes, but the petite red-head wasn't ready to follow Osric's steps. Rich and Matt had decided to stroll around the airport to shake off sleep, and will probably come back with a few bags brimming with goodies from the overpriced stores. Rob for his part had decided to stretch his legs by walking to one of the coffee shops to get a cup of Joe to combat his fatigue. 

Mark was as always more put together than any of them and even had the extra energy to immerse himself in a book. The man must really be a demon or something. Jared, the giant moose, was living up to his nickname and was leaning heavily on Jensen's shoulder. He was snoring away; his ridiculous giraffe-like limbs stretched out every which way. The drool Jensen felt soaking his t-shirt made him grimace, but he didn't have the heart to shake his friend awake. 

And Misha, well, he had traveled home last night as soon as his Cas photo ops were done. Jensen didn't know how his lover had the energy to travel right after the busy day he had without rest. That man was a freak of nature; he reminded Jensen of the Energizer Bunny, always going and going and going. But despite Misha's effort to conceal his exhaustion, he could always tell how truly weary his lover felt. The main telltale: when Misha didn't tackle him into the hotel bed as soon as they entered the room and plowed him silly. Jensen was a bit grateful nothing frisky had happened, because sitting down or even standing up for a short period was rather uncomfortable with a slightly sore ass. 

Even so, all of him thrummed with a restless longing to be devoured by ravenous lips and playful teeth, to be dismantled by experienced fingers and turned into a moaning mess by the clever rhythm of unholy hips rocking into him unrestrained. Though curiously, what never failed to push him over the edge and wrench a heart-stopping orgasm from his body were the titillating words whispered hotly in his ear with a basso profundo voice that told him Misha was just as wrecked as him. He was suddenly startled out of his reverie by the vibration of the cell in his front jean pocket. His right hand quickly reached for it and the slight movement made him aware of the dull shoulder ache cause by the weight of Jared's head. 

 Every though he had evanesced when his eyes settled upon the name on the small screen; speak of the devil and he shall appear or at least call. An instinctive chill sauntered up his spine and spread warmth from his bones to his pores. Misha didn't need to utter a word or even be physically present for Jensen to respond to him. The man commanded his attention effortlessly from miles apart and such thing often rendered Jensen wonderstruck. 

**"Where are you?"** questioned Misha as soon as he answered the call. And at the sound of the intimately familiar dark timber of his lover's voice, he almost responded with a moan. Thank goodness he had enough presence of mind as well as a procession of people coming in to fill the remaining empty seats. 

Jensen tried as best as he could to straighten in his seat with what the titan next to him almost crushing him. He licked his lips and swallowed down the eagerness making his heart flutter, and then scanned his surroundings before answering. 

"At the airport, but you already knew that. Why?" He didn't know exactly why the question aroused his basic sexual instinct, but given how they didn't have sex before Misha left last night and his  lover's penchant for teasing, no one could blame Jensen for being suspicious. 

**"I know, but** **where** **exactly are you?"**   Misha's insistence only served to make his heart pound harder. And he shouldn't be thinking about anything pounding harder, because it gave his brain the excuse to project inappropriate images in his mind. Memories of sweat carpeted skin and nipping kisses, pinned wrists and a red silk rope; he could even recall the in tandem rolls of hips and the sensation of nipples being suckled. And he needed to cut off those stimulating thoughts before his cock decided to show its interest in full force. So once again, he moved in his seat and stretched out his legs. 

Lowering his head and turning it to the side and away from the others, he replied quietly, "At the boarding gate. Our flight leaves in about half an hour."

Despite the well-lit waiting area and the natural light filtering through the large windows, no one seemed awake enough to appreciate the sunny blue skies. He waited for Misha's reply rather impatiently; an incessant buzz under his skin had made him victim of a restless night sleep. That itch had only become more intense upon hearing his lover's voice. 

**"Who is sitting next to you?"**

"Jared, but he's out like a light. Why are you-" His answer was cut off by Misha's sleep wrecked voice; a raspy sound that teasingly scratched the itch beneath his flesh.  

**"I am eating watermelon and it reminded me of you or to be precise, of a certain part of your body."**

Jensen forcefully swallowed down a surprised gasp. His already unsteady heartbeat going from a trot to a full gallop at the salacious direction the conversation was taking. Yet instead of feeling embarrassment for his shameful anticipation, he felt unapologetically giddy. But he wasn't about to admit that to Misha, because the guy already had enough power over him, plus he probably already knew how affected Jensen already was. 

**"The watermelon is scrumptious. Perfectly ripped. So much so that I wrote a short poem about it. Do you want to hear it?"** Before Jensen could reply to the question, Misha quickly proceeded to recite his poem in the most seductive way imaginable and with the lowest timbre possible. It made him all sorts of hot, so much that some parts of him were quickly rousing from their tired slumber, undeniably interested. 

**"Okay. This is my poem about watermelon.**

**It’s titled: “Nice Melons.”**

**You are so wet**

**So pink**

**I want to bury my face in you.**

**And swallow**

**The seeds."**

 A gasp almost broke free from his lips before his mouth went agape with the double entendre of the words. Thankfully, he managed to gulp it down, but didn't have the same luck keeping his cheeks from tinting crimson. So he turned his head away from his co-workers and rested his mouth again his shoulder. On the other side of the line the only thing that could be heard were Misha's steady breathing and relaxed chewing. Motherfucker! Misha was enjoying this, of course he was. 

"You're such a sadistic asshole, you know that?" Jensen muttered under his breath. 

A dark and pleased chuckle trickled through the phone and tickled his skin; it made the naughtiest parts of his body tingle deliciously. But he knew Misha wasn't done yet, because mischievously arousing Jensen's sexual desire in such a tantalizing way was something his lover took very seriously. And he far from hated it, on the contrary, Jensen took special relish in the intimacy of the teasing. The man Jensen loved always took his time taking him apart, which told him much about Misha’s feelings towards him. 

**"Mmm, but you like it when I am like this. In fact, you like it so much your ass and dick, your nipples and skin are happy to hear my voice. Or am I wrong, Jen?"** Damn bastard, always so smug and sure of the effect he had on him. 

The instinctive moan that was ferociously fighting its way up his throat at the lascivious words made him shot up his seat. Poor Jared almost hit the empty seat with the full force of his weight, but Jensen's keen reflexes caught him as he was falling.  While he rested his cell between his right cheek and shoulder, he placed his carry-on bag on his seat and then let his friend's head rest on it. Mark and Ruth fixed him with curious and mildly concerned gazes, but he just smiled at them awkwardly and then walked a few steps away from the waiting area. 

Now it wasn't just his face that burned, but his entire body from the inside out. Dear fucking Christ! His lover was determined to get him off at a crowded airport and at this rate he'll be successful. Then again, when was he not?  

Jensen cleared his throat and lifted his right hand to fix his black DaKine cap. Thank goodness he had taken off his black leather jacket or otherwise he'll be roasting under his gray t-shirt. Though at this point, he felt he was sweltering even with the airport's strong air conditioning. Misha always had this effect on him, even from a distance. 

**"I want you to go to the Starbucks and buy a bottle of water, orange juice, and a** ** _firm_** **banana. Then I want you to go to the bathroom and find the furthest stall from the entrance."** It was no doubt a command, but it wasn't harsh or entitled. Misha's dominance has never felt demeaning nor his control suffocating. His lover gave him a type of freedom an secret part of him craved. 

Jadeite eyes darted around to make sure no one was too close to hear the conversation. He was grateful for his cap and beard because it helped him disguise his currently flustered state. Misha's words confounded him. Why would he ask him to buy a 'firm' banana when his lover knew he didn't eat bananas? 

Brows furrowed as his blunt nails scratched his nape, and then he voiced his thoughts, "You know I don't like bananas... why would you send me to-"

**"Once you are inside the stall, take the banana out of the bag and then hang the bag on the door hook. Look inside your wallet, I left a mint flavored lubricated condom there. I know how much you enjoy the fresh, tingling sensation of the mint as it coats your inner walls."** Misha's rich voice raked through him like an early spring zephyr; it seduced all his senses without much effort and sent his heart thrashing against his ribs at full speed. 

**"There is also a packet of strawberry lube. I can almost taste it as I imagine the tip of my tongue languidly circling your tight rim. This watermelon doesn't come close to the ambrosial taste of your smooth entrance."** Misha's words were bold and meant to shake his foundations, but the delivery was softened by the meticulous care he showed in every action. _Jensen wondered how he could still function. How was he still standing? He didn't know and didn't care._ Only one word subsumed Jensen's thought at the moment. 

"Misha..."

**"Do you want this?"**

"I want it."

**"Then do as I say and let me give you what you need. Are you walking?"**

"Yes," he answered before he realized he was already doing what Misha had asked him to do.

The line was as long as he had expected it to be, which only made Misha's teasing even more torturously intense. It was apparent the little jerk took great pleasure in making him flustered in public. The sucking noises coming through the receiver coupled with the approving 'mmm's and so good, so wet and soft, Jen' almost made him loose his footing and crash against the older lady standing in front of him. Hooray for his fast reflexes. 

**"The watermelon seeds remind me of your nipples J, not the pitch-black color because yours are an enticing light-brown but their hardness when stimulated is similar. I bet even as we speak, and just by the sound of my voice, they became pert. I still remember how delectable they tasted coated with whip cream. I'm sure you can easily recall the feel of my tongue as the tip circled your areolae in a slow drag. Do you remember how your bow legs desperately looped around my waist, and your wrists fought to free themselves from the grip of my fingers when my tongue coiled around your lively nubs?"**

"Sir? Excuse me sir, are you ready to order?" Jensen vaguely heard another voice spear through his ears, yet Misha's layered timbre made every other sound fade away. There he stood like an idiot; unable to move and react as he struggled to take a few breaths. 

**"Your entire body arched when my lips suckled and my teeth gently scraped the small nub and nibbled at the tip as if it was the cherry on top. A loud, drawn out moan closed your eyes and parted your lips, curled your toes and lured my dick to plunge into your wet heat as a nipple-gasm quaked you from head to toe. You came between our sweat blanketed stomachs; the stiffness and pulsing and hotness of your cock a lively paint brush sloppily splattering our skin with your warm seed."**

Fuck! This was already too much. His entire being was ready to let go and snap. He couldn't believe pre-come was already dampening his too tight boxers. 

"Sir, sir."

Jensen felt something poke his right shoulder and for a moment Misha paused his litany of intoxicating sexual words. He was both relived and disappointed; guess that makes him a masochist then or a Misha-junkie. The man was an impossible to quit addiction. God help him, because he couldn't even fathom the thought of a Misha-less life. 

"Dude, are you going to buy anything or what? The barista has been calling for you and you're just ignoring her in favor of your phone, that's rude," a middle aged, dark-skinned, business-type man scolded. Though he was the only one who spoke, his black as coal eyes weren't the only ones expressing disapproval. 

Jensen swallowed his embarrassment and cleared his throat, and then let his eyes meet the stern gazes settled upon him as he apologized to the young barista and the people waiting in line. Without wasting any more time, he quickly selected the items he wanted to buy, paying special attention to the 'firmness' of the banana. He left a generous tip, and also paid for the drinks of the people waiting behind him. Before the barista could recognize him or his repentant act call any unwanted attention, he rushed towards the nearest men's bathroom. Thankfully it wasn't crowded, but he didn't hold onto any unrealistic hopes of it remaining that way. 

The space was well-lit and clean, and as a plus it didn't smell bad...yet. He shared a few perfunctory nods with some guys on their way out, and immediately made a beeline towards the last stall. Jensen was relieved that no one was using the urinals or the stall next door. 

Once inside, he locked the door and did as Misha had told him. Now, after the last vestiges of sleep had been chased away by lust and his weariness had melted away by excitement, his brain caught up with his devilish boyfriend's plan. It made his dick swell and twitch happily and his skin hot all over; phone sex wasn't a novelty for them, but the place and method of getting him off certainly was. He wondered if Misha would jack off at the same time as him. Jensen hoped he did. 

**"Use your Bluetooth headset; I want both of your hands free. By the end of this I will have you walking with your knees a couple of extra inches apart from each other,"** his lover husked in that gravelly voice that without fail always made him sweat under the collar and shredded every rational thought. 

**"Drop your jeans and pull your t-shirt up, we don't want all that tasty milk to splash all over it. I wish I was there so I could use it as paint to write my name on you. And afterward, I would use my tongue to trace the lines and curves of each letter, and as usual, you would whine and shudder as if a bluebonnet seduced by the wind. I'll milk you till the last drop when I see you tonight, but first you need to show me you're a good boy by obeying my words. What do you say J?"** Was Misha really asking him this shit? As if he would say no to that! To be honest he rarely said no to anything Misha proposed. Even before he gave his reply, his jeans were already down his knees. The hand holding what was to be Misha's cock replacement was sweaty and trembling enthusiastically to get this show going. 

"Yes, yes, I'll be good. So just-"

**"Oh, I must have spoken indiarussian and that's why you didn't understand what I said. Did my sub forget his manners, huh?"**

At the change of tone, his heart skipped a beat and his skin broke into a tapestry of goosebumps as a quiver raked him and swirls of desire parted his lips. Fuck! Misha was a self-complacent little shit and Jensen was insane for enjoying these dangerous games. He didn't want to disappoint his lover, so he immediately rectified his answer to please his Dom. 

"I'm sorry Mish," he murmured. "Please, give me what I need. Only you can do it. I'll be good and do anything you want." The sincerity in his words wasn't feign nor his obedience. He was truly sorry and his desire to satisfy Misha was honest. 

Jensen could practically hear his boyfriend purring with delight, which in turn made his heart do cartwheels. Seriously, Misha needed to hurry up because the clock was ticking and Jensen will seriously die if he doesn't get to come before boarding the plane. 

**"Mmm, that's my Jackles...Did you do as I told you?"**

"Yes."

**"Good...Then pour a generous amount of lube on your fingers, spread your butt cheeks, and slowly circle your tight bud with your index finger. Don't touch your cock. You will come just from ass-play, though I might let you tease your balls. Go ahead, J."** It was unfair how this man's voice could be the epitome of possessiveness and pure sex, and at the same time sound like the tenderest caress. But that's what made their relationship what it was—incomparable. 

Jensen followed his lover's command word by word, carefully teasing the hungry ring of muscle as the hand holding the banana spread his ass cheeks. Just that was enough to make his body vibrate and his mouth dry. Misha's steady breaths kept him centered. 

**"Remember that your hands are my hands now, your fingers are no longer yours and your touch is my touch on your skin. Your hands will do as I say because for his moment, they belong to me."** His boyfriend in regular mode undoubtedly had a way with words, but _this_ Misha, _his_ Dom was something else. It wasn't so much the choice of words, though they were also at another level, but the way he spoke them. 

His rim was already pliant and begging for another finger; it was too empty and screamed to be stuffed full of...of dick, but a banana would have to do for now.

**"Give your starved hole another finger. You must already be struggling to remain standing; your legs too accustomed to be splayed at the feel of my fingers' meticulous ministrations. In and out, and pay particular attention to those slippery walls; rub them and then scissor your fingers. I wish I could hear your gasps and moans and those whimpers that make my dick painfully hard. I'll make a prayer of broken groans and whines fall from your lips and serenade me tonight. At this moment your cock must be dripping with delicious honey. Too bad my mouth is so far away..."** Of the two of them, Misha was the one who enjoyed giving head the most; he was like a cock-hungry beast.

God, he was dying to fist himself and thumb the tip of his dick. And Misha knew it and took pleasure in driving him mad with all that detailed imagery. The worst part, so to speak, was that Jensen enjoyed that playful torture. Droplets of sweat trickled lazily down his heated back and temples; he could feel a thin layer of sweat carpet his neck and forehead. And he found himself rocking his hips in tandem with his fingers. 

The sharp sound of the door closing at the stall next to his startled him out of his Misha-induced trance, thus his movements temporarily ceased. His mind was suddenly assailed by countless unfamiliar voices, water rushing out of the faucets, toilets flushing, and hot air dryers, but not for long. 

**"Hey Jen, stay with me. Listen only to me. I won't have you distracted by any other sound other than my voice. Understand?"**

He nodded but soon realized Misha couldn't see him and he needed to reply. 

"Yes, Mish."

**"I'm sprawled on my bed. Naked. My dick is hard and the tip is glistening with pre-come. My fingers are coiled around it and my balls are waiting impatiently to release the seeds of my lust for you. Wish I was there so I could plunge into you and roll my hips at that adagio tempo that makes you chant my name incessantly. And as you arc your back, I'll thumb your sensitive slit and suck your hypersensitive nipples as if sweet strawberries. Add another finger and play with your balls."** His lover's lust-ridden voice was a mix of sand paper and gravel; it always managed to increase the flames in the pit of his stomach. 

Jensen added his ring finger to the mix and at the pleasurable stretch, his teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. He was sure that if he didn't do so, he would give an embarrassing concert to unsuspecting bathroom goers. While his right hand's fingers moved languidly as if they belonged to Misha, his other hand managed to hold onto the banana which was increasingly looking very appealing, and spared two fingers to pay attention to his needy testicles. At the first touch, his mouth parted in a hushed whine and his knees shook slightly; if only Misha was here to swallow the full length of his swollen dick. More than once he had orgasm from slit-play and ball teasing. 

**"Ahh, mmm, Jen, I can't wait to play with you. As I pump my cock up and down and rub the tip, I can't help but think of your bow legs set wide open and the tempting call of your voracious entrance. How I long to hear the skin-on-skin slaps as I thrust into you, of my hands turning your butt cheeks as red as your freckled cheekbones; my teeth crave the feel of your skin as they scrape and bite down your neck and collarbones. But most of all I yearn for your lips, the shape and flavor of them; the way you intone my name as if it was a song, a poem or a prayer. And when you do that, you invoke obscure feelings out of me and all I want is to do is give you everything you desire.**

"Ah, fuc-k! Mish, mmm." The whispered babbling poured out of his lips and yanked a drawn out chuckle from his boyfriend, which in turn made Jensen's erection twitch violently. He didn't know how his hands managed to work in perfect synchronization, but he was sure it had to do with his lover's mind boggling control skills. His fingers couldn't reach his prostate, they weren't long enough like Misha's and the angle was wrong, nevertheless he felt like he was about to empty every drop of come at any moment. 

**"Cup your balls J, and then give them a careful tug and drag them away from your body. Slowly, with care, massage them. I'm sure you can remember the scorching feel of my tongue as it moves from the left side of your balls up to the middle and lazily back down and then up the right side. It drives you insane when I trace a 'w' around your jewels, so much so you beg me to do it again whilst my fingers prod that sweet spot deep inside your smooth walls."**

"Oh Jesus, Mi-sh, please, ple-ase..." If Misha kept this up he was going to come from just fingering and ball-teasing, and he didn't want that. He wanted to feel something slightly resembling the shape of his lover's prominent erection inside of him. Jensen knew it won't give him the same stimulation but Misha's words painting detailed moments in his mind was enough to help tamp down the urgent buzz under his skin. 

**"My, my, how eager are we today...I love it when your body surrenders and twists at every word I say. Because you have been so good and obedient, take the fingers out of your ass and stop playing with your balls. Spread your cheeks, widen your stance, and** **line the banana closer to the rim. Slowly ease it into the wet heat of your body. Steady, gently, there's no hurry, we still have time. Feel me, Jensen, how hard and starved I am for you. As every inch of me stretches and fills you, feel my hands clutching your meaty thighs and my nails digging into your glossy sweaty flesh."**

The thought of Misha's crimson, half-moon marks on him shut his eyes tighter and fanned the stormy conflagration low in his belly. He could feel the flames building up and spiking the temperature of his skin; he could no longer hear anything than Misha's voice. Not even the clamorous sound of his heartbeats or the rushing current of blood stealing his hearing were enough to claim his attention. The feel of being full made him gasp; he was a water-filled balloon ready to pop. 

"Mi-Misha, need you, ple---" Jensen couldn't think much less form intelligent words; all he wanted were commands, all he needed were slender fingers tattooing red scratches on his skin and spit slick lips dispensing feather light kisses that made his toes curl. 

**"Shh, Jen, I got you. Just hear my voice. We will come together. Pull out the banana, but not completely. Leave the tip inside as I usually do my cock. Mmm, yes, you feel heavenly, the tightness of you swathing my throbbing erection possessively. Thrust it back in and rock against it like we do when we are together. In and out at adagio tempo, until the rhythm is established and your hips stutter forward as if searching for my stomach. You go crazy at the slide of your aching dick against my skin, because you gain satisfaction by branding me as yours with your savory pre-come. My hands soon follow the taut lines of your sturdy arms, and my fingers end up twinning around your wrists, pinning them securely to the mattress."**

"Shit-fuck, give it to me hard Mish. Please, ple-ase, mmm." 

Theirs' was a gentle-rough fucking that came with silk ropes and padded handcuffs, bites and scratches, manhandling and torturous teasing, cock rings, nipple clamps and prostate stimulating toys; eye fucking, phone sex, and sexting in awkward places, bondage and titillating words; total submission and enrapturing domination. But ultimately— love. 

Another earthy deep chuckle slithered through the Bluetooth and went directly to his cock; he felt his balls draw up and his muscles tightened. He was ready to snap and the overwhelming sensation made him woozy. 

"Mi- I can't-"

**"Tsk-tsk, I'll have to take my time training your endurance tonight, Ackles. But for now, I will answer your prayers."**

_Thank God_ _,_ Jensen said to himself, relieved, or so thought. Because the startled laugh that stole his breath told him he had said it out loud. Hopefully he hadn't said it that loud. Now, he was once again aware of where he was, but not clear-minded enough to feel guilty. Certainly not his hand or hips cared one bit where he was, because they were moving swiftly with abandon. God, he was so close, so close. 

**"God has nothing to do with this, Jen. Now, bring your legs as far as your jeans let you and move your hand as fast as you can. Remember how I pound into you; the force strong enough to move the bed. You meet my thrusts flawlessly, and expertly circle your hips as you wrap your legs around my waist. My hands tightens their hold on your wrists, they will be donning reddish rings for a long while. My tongue laves the salty skin of your neck and spread goosebumps all over, and then journeys up to delineate the curves of your ear; I allow my teeth to join the fun and they nip your earlobe. And at that, you whine and pant, and my lips dash to stamp kisses on your ruddy face and your eyes flutter open at the loving gestures just to drown in mine. As if our bodies were waiting for our gazes to meet, one, two, and a final sharp thrust of our off-beat hips bring billows of rapid-fire crashing forward."**

Misha's grunts and groans, his slow, shaky inhales and the thought of his blissful face as his hand gave him pleasure, as well as the teasing of his prostate at each thrust of the banana he pretended was Misha's cock, pushed him over the edge of the highest cliff. A blast of oxytocin spread in his bloodstream as the tidal wave of his orgasm shook his entire being. Before he could cry in ecstasy and revealed his indecent activities, he bit the inside of his cheek and immediately pointed his dick to the toilet. Fuc-k! Jensen felt boneless and ready to keel over, but the tiny part of him that could still think straight prompted him to rest his weight against the door. His head felt so heavy as it rested against the door; he was more than ready to sleep the entire flight.      

"Not bad, huh?" husked his devilish lover.

Despite his renewed exhaustion, a goofy smile adorned his lips; his body was sated and whorls of warmth flooded his chest. 

_Yes, not bad at all._

He heard some rustling on the other side of the line; Misha must be cleaning up his mess. Jensen was so greedy, because he wanted to be the one to clean his lover's come-soaked hands with his tongue. 

**"Later, I'll let you do it later."** His Mish knew him disturbingly well; sometimes Jensen thought he had psychic powers. Yet his reassuring voice settled his mind.

**"I'll leave you now. After you get out of the bathroom, drink some water and juice. Did you eat breakfast?"**

"Yeah..." Christ, he wished he had the energy to talk, to tell Misha that this had been an amazing experience, and that he hoped they could repeat it, soon. But his mind was hazy, his muscles putty, and his tongue an anchor.

Of course he didn't need to explain. His lover already knew. 

Peals of sonorous laughter swam into his ears and warmth rippled from the inside out---contentment they sang. 

**"Don't fall asleep in the bathroom stall. See you later, J. Have a safe flight."**

"See you, Mish."

After his frantic heartbeats had calmed down and his fevered body had settled, Jensen cleaned himself, took a few deep breaths to steady his breathing, and then grabbed the paper bag. He was once again thankful for wearing a cap, it helped him avoid eye contact with the other people using the facilities and not feel as exposed. Everyone was minding their own business, hurrying up to be on time for boarding, and completely oblivious to the hottest phone sex Jensen has had in a while. And just like Misha had promised, he was indeed walking with his knees a bit further apart from each other. 

He washed his hands and hurried to the boarding gate. Dammit, jogging after fucking himself with a banana wasn't fun. The tingling left behind by the mint flavored condom and the slight burn from being stretched as well as the sensitivity of his nipples made him a bit paranoid that people might know what he had done. 

When he joined his co-workers at the gate, Jared didn't waste time to ask questions. Jensen had hoped he was still snoozing. 

"Dude, why the heck are you so red and out of breath? You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he quickly retorted. 

Hazel eyes scrutinized him to the point of making him squirm, but even if his friend suspected what he had been up to, he didn't say anything. 

"You came just in time to board. Rob brought me a fruit salad, but I ate most of it. The only thing left are a few watermelon pieces. Do you want them?"

At the mention of the fruit and as if on cue, his ass twitched and his dick attempted a heroic jolt. At the betrayal of his body, he felt the heat rise once again from the sole of his feet to his freckled cheeks; now he burned for a different and less sexy reason. 

Goddammit! _Was this some kind of permanent conditioned response to the sight or mention of watermelon? Will he react the same to bananas now?_ Fan-fucking-tactic, now he was Misha's Pavlov dog, as if the bastard needed to have more power over him. Well, um the thing was that Jensen didn't really mind because he trusted his lover implicitly, yet he couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted. _If others knew how he really was, what would they think?_

Jared's concerned voice yanked him out of his spiraling thoughts and the hand holding the Starbucks bag tightened around the handles. He needed to get back his bearing and act normal. 

"Jay, you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine man, just tired."

"Okay... So, do you want the watermelon pieces?"

This time he halted the attempt his mind made to flood him with thoughts of a firm banana and the arousing poem about watermelon, mint flavored condoms and the sandpaper timbre of Misha's voice moving his hands as if they were his own. And he focused on delivering an answer that would hopefully get as far as possible from the wet and juicy watermelon pieces that reminded him of his earlier activities. 

"No thanks, I **_hate_** watermelon...and bananas." Jensen said it with such passion Jared's brow furrowed in concussion. 

"Since when?"

"Since today," he grumbled and quickly reached for his bag resting on the seat he previously occupied. 

Jensen avoided his best friend's searching gaze and practically stomped towards the gate attendant. He gave her a small smile at the same time he provided his boarding pass, and then hurried down the jet way to get into the plane and finally rest or at least that's what he was trying to do when he got a couple of texts from Misha. 

**"I will eat you up like I ate those pieces of watermelon, with tongue, lips, and a bit of nipping; you will be uncomfortably sore for a couple of days because my cock has been missing your tight hole like crazy. But don't worry; I will lovingly take care of you while your body recuperates."**

It was difficult to give into sleep as tired as he was when his mind kept replaying the promises his Mish whispered through the phone in that Cas-voice he has now accepted as a kink. Not to mention the intentional dirty words that made his flesh hum. The anticipation caused his spine to tingle and his stomach to flutter; his lover always fulfilled his promises thoroughly. 

**"I have prepared a surprise for you. Something you have wanted for a while. We have a dinner reservation at 8 o'clock. I will let you rest for a few hours, but the night is mine. So hurry back to me, Jen."**

Curiosity seeped in and stirred his thoughts. Something he had wanted for a while? He couldn't think of anything. But whatever it was, Jensen was certain he will like it, because other than Dee, Misha was the only person who knew him so intimately well. 

Tonight painted itself to be a promising night, a thrilling sexcapede.

Finally, he will be full to the brim with the real thing. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> If you still crave more teasing [Sexting Poetry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6956917) is for you.
> 
> Thanks for reading :D


End file.
